by K Bledsoe
“This,” he held out his hand, palm up so that the tattoo on his wrist was visible, “is the mark of the Heir’s Companion.”
Chapter Nine
Delilah spoke in a whisper to Hewel who disappeared out the door. Before Lavan could settle his thoughts and emotions enough to figure out what to do and say next, Hewel was back with a tray carrying two glasses and bottle. Delilah poured two glasses and pressed one on Lavan. He downed it in one gulp, recognizing an extremely expensive strong liqueur that the prince and his lackeys often drank. It burned all the way down his throat and lit a small fire in his stomach. Relaxation spread through his entire body, steadied his nerves and, strangely enough, gave him courage. He could see why people got addicted to these sorts of beverages. He noticed Delilah merely sipped, but the smile she gave Lavan indicated she knew it was exactly what he had needed. She poured a little more in his glass and set the bottle in front of him.
“Now,” she said. “Start from the beginning.”
“When an heir is born, they are marked on the edge of the right palm with a special tattoo that is a royal identification. As I am sure your, um, assistant can tell you,” he waved a hand at Hewel, “within the first couple years, another child of the same age is chosen to become a lifelong companion. Then he or she is tattooed with the same symbol on their wrist so that when hand to wrist is grasped, the symbols align.” He attempted to demonstrate this with his own hands, but it was awkward, so he just continued. “Private citizens get their own tattoos to mimic the royalty, but what is known to only a few is that there is more to the bond than just ink. Most believe the tattoo is simply tradition, but the fact is that the prince and I are linked in strange ways.” He took a tiny sip of the liqueur and noted that it burned less. “I really don’t know how it works or why, but when one of us is sad or sick, the other feels it as well. I know the prince can sense things in me like…like pain.”
Lavan swallowed against the memories but continued. “I am supposed to be aware of these things too, but I only feel a whisper of a connection. I…my bond with the prince is different because…” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I do not like him. He lives to torture. He has never known pain or strife and enjoys hurting people.”
Lavan looked earnestly at Delilah. “He must never become king, and the only way I can think of to prevent this is to find the first heir, the lost princess Maya.”
“But, again, if a bad king is kept from power by the ruling council, why would it matter?” asked Hewel.
“Understand that I could be imprisoned, perhaps even executed, simply for talking to you about this. In fact, I think the only reason Prince Hahn has not gotten rid of me is because he does not know how the bond will resonate, perhaps even harm him. But he detests me as well, and I will tell you all since I have no one else to turn to. No one in the palace would dare speak out for fear of retaliation against their families. I have no family, and there is little worse the prince can do to me.”
Lavan swallowed again, trying to drum up the courage to speak and fighting the urge to look over his shoulder for eavesdroppers. “The prince is very skilled at hiding his cruel side. I may be the only one who knows his true self.”
He took a deep breath and finished the rest of the liqueur in his glass. “The prince is supposed to be officially confirmed as Heir when he turns eighteen next month, but he is not content with the title. The problem is that he plans to have more power in the ruling council, eventually doing away with them altogether, to be the sole voice of authority. At first, I thought the prince was merely being immature, saying such things to seem older and more important as young men do. But when he started to make the plans a reality, I began to take his rantings seriously. Now he has already got several ‘strings’ in place and controls more than a few of the current voted officials. I am not sure how far it has gone, and I cannot do anything against him. My role as Heir’s Companion is supposed to be one of support and protection, so I am powerless to openly oppose him. If Maya returns, she is the only one who can challenge his right to rule.”
“May I see the mark again?”
Lavan held his hand out to the woman, and she took it gently, lightly running her fingertip along the pattern. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt a slight tingling where she touched. Her eyes flicked to Hewel who nodded very slightly.
“So, tell me,” she said, still holding his hand. “Does—” She was interrupted by three short, loud pings from Lavan’s wristcomp. Lavan snatched his hand back and stood up abruptly.
“I have to go.”
“But there’s more to discuss.”
“You don’t understand. That signal was from the guard that is supposed to be keeping me under lock in my rooms. The prince is on his way back from his nighttime revels, and if he finds out I am gone…” Lavan shook his head, not even willing to imagine the consequences.
Hewel grabbed his arm. “Quickly then. The girl with the princess when she disappeared. Was that the princess’ companion? And was her tattoo the same as yours?”
Lavan stared. The story of the missing princess and her companion was a favorite tale told to little children at bedtime. How could a local boy not know of it? Hewel shook his arm slightly. “Her tattoo?”
“It was different, unique. And, yes, they were together at the time. Really, I have to go.”
“Get us a picture of that tattoo.” Hewel shoved a paper in the companion’s other hand. “This is the new contact code.” He released the prince and said in a whisper, “We will meet again. Soon.”
Lavan fled.
Chapter Ten
“Pay the bill,” Lenore told her son. He looked surprised at her gruff tone but went to pay the manager. While they had learned much from the young companion, Quinn’s first contact had been less than exemplary.
As they left the restaurant and walked down the street, Lenore could tell by Quinn’s nervous adjusting of his clothes that her silence obviously was getting to him.
“Why are we going this way?” he leaned in close to ask.
“Because this is the way I am going, and you are to follow me.” Lenore saw Quinn’s face darken at the rebuke, but he didn’t get the hint and kept on.
“Why did you interrupt me in there? I had, Beltan, or Lavan, whatever. I had him telling the truth. I could have gotten more…”
“First of all,” Lenore said through gritted teeth and low voice, “you were supposed to be observing not participating and second, I am discussing nothing further until we are home.”
“But, why…”
“And you are not behaving like a proper servant boy.”
“The job is over, we’re heading home. Why do I still need to act?”
“Because we are being followed.”
***
Outside of the eatery, a woman watched Lavan race out the door. She took only a moment to decide whether to follow him. The cowardly companion would run scared back to his hole. The elegantly clad offworlder and her young assistant were the ones to follow, so she pretended to enjoy her caf while engrossed in her personal tablet. Her features marked her as a native of the planet, almost too thin which belied her strength. Scars, mostly unseen, spoke of a rough past, but she seemed more than capable of having earned them all.
She didn’t have long to wait before the two came out and left in the opposite direction than Lavan had. Also, a different direction than they had arrived from. Interesting, mused the woman. She stuffed her cheap, second-hand tablet in her ragged bag slung over her shoulder and tossed her cup in the trash. Keeping to the many night shadows, she tried to follow close enough to overhear them, but the noise of the city streets let her catch only a few raised words. Oddly enough, the woman got the impression that they were arguing, though their faces seemed calm and pleasant enough. And the way they interacted spoke to the woman that the two were far more familiar to each other than just a lady and a hired servant. It didn’t make sense since she was clearly an off-worlder and the boy a local.
Wait, the lady was tapping something into her wrist comp. Paging a ride? Sending a message? The two stopped chatting, and the one trailing them was trying to think of a way that she could figure out why they had been meeting with the Prince’s companion. Talk to them? Pretend to be a reporter? A beeping from her bag interrupted her thoughts. She fumbled it out quickly since the sound was attracting attention from the two she was following. Who would be calling her now? She knew few people and not one of them knew she had a tablet, much less her contact information.
She yanked it out and flipped it open just as the sound stopped. A couple taps indicated a contact she didn’t know, and no return message was attached. Couldn’t be an ad. Probably a cross transmission, a simple mistake. Annoyed, she shoved it back in the bag and turned back.
But the two she had been following were gone.
Chapter Eleven
Lavan entered the palace grounds through the servant’s entrance, breath coming fast since he had run most of the way home. Why was Hahn back so early? He usually stayed out until near sunrise, drinking and doing who knew what with his friends. The prince termed them his “council” but in reality, they were spoiled upper class boys all quite willing to follow the prince so that they would be in high favor with the royalty. Lavan stayed away from them as much as he could, but when he was forced to go along he usually regretted it.
He started up the common stairs but one of the sympathetic palace guards, old enough to be a grandfather, hissed and shook his head. The back way then. It meant Hahn was close to their adjoining rooms.
Or maybe already there.
Lavan ducked back into the servants’ living quarters and ascended the narrow stairs to the third floor. The common balcony opened right under his bathroom window, and he had a few climbing spikes he had secretly placed there at the age of seven. He had broken his ankle by jumping out that window to escape one of the prince’s fencing “lessons,” Hahn’s term for beating Lavan with a wooden practice sword. After that, he professed a fear of heights to allow himself an escape.
Lavan climbed easily, used to the holds, then scrambled through the window to hear a pounding on the bathroom door. He had locked it when he left in case of this exact situation.
“Hang on!” Lavan caught his breath and made sure there was nothing on his person that might give away where he had been. When he found the paper with the contact code he quickly memorized it then tossed it into the toilet and flushed away. Stripping off his jacket and throwing it in a wad on the bathroom floor, he opened the door to a red-faced prince.
“Why didn’t you answer?” He charged into the small room, looking wildly around.
“Did I really have to? Can’t I even have some peace to do my business?” Lavan pushed past him, trying to seem self-assured and a little haughty. Bad idea since Hahn’s red eyes said he had been drinking and most likely doing drugs. That combination led to anger and a lowering of inhibitions that caused the prince to assert his superiority in a more forceful or even violent manner than usual.
Lavan had experienced those consequences many times before, but he could tell it was worse than usual tonight, which was why he was probably home. Most of Hahn’s lackeys were smart enough to keep him out of the public eye when he lost his wit and charm.
Unfortunately, Lavan typically had to deal with the fallout, and the prince was spoiling for a fight. Probably hoping to find Lavan with a girl or drinks of his own to have an excuse to punish him further. If there was nothing wrong, it didn’t calm him but enraged him more. Lavan tried not to think of other ways the prince let off steam using the companion as an outlet for his anger. When they were young, it was childish but cruel things: snakes in the bed or itching powder in clothes. But the older they got, the more dangerous the pranks became. Like when Hahn put tiny slivers of metal in Lavan’s lunch.
Fortunately, the palace had an excellent doctor always on call who rushed Lavan to the hospital as soon as he began to vomit blood. Hahn blamed the kitchen staff, and the head chef was fired. A few days later, however, Lavan had found a small box of metal bits in the prince’s desk drawer. From that point on, he was more cautious and began to find interests that would keep him separate from the prince. Nevertheless, in the intervening years, Hahn found other ways of pain.
The prince grunted. “‘Do your business,’ huh. Being snooty again, aren’t you? Just call it pissing and shitting like the rest of the normal people. And since I’m here…” Hahn strode to the toilet, clumsily dropped his pants and proceeded to urinate, occasionally missing on purpose. As Lavan walked out, Hahn laughed.
“Ha, so sloppy you are. No wonder the maids hate cleaning your rooms.” He continued to chortle as Lavan sat down at his desk, a book laid out as if he had just put it down a moment ago. The prince swaggered out, still looking everywhere.
“You weren’t sleeping, were you?”
“Of course not, just catching up on some history lessons.” Lavan had learned long ago to not sleep when Hahn was awake.
“Schooling, bah. When I am king I, won’t need any more stupid lessons. That’s what the council is for. And advisors. And all those other useless people around the court who need to be put to work.”
Lavan ignored the rant, thinking the prince wouldn’t have so many followers if they knew how he really felt about them. The prince pawed through the room, picking up and tossing aside Lavan’s belongings, taking far longer than he usually would. Lavan felt sweat break out on his forehead.
Does he suspect me of something? What does he know? Lavan felt a shiver go down his spine as he imagined the prince’s reaction if he ever found out that Lavan was behind the renewed search for Maya. The torture would be unbearable and no longer private since Hahn, and perhaps others, would see it as a betrayal.
He tried to focus on the history lesson.
Finally, Hahn seemed to tire of the useless activity and slumped down on Lavan’s bed. The sigh that escaped his lips was so unlike his customary bravado that Lavan turned in surprise.
“I’m tired of all this, Lavan,” he said quietly. “Tired of trying to seem confident and in charge when in fact I am nothing of the sort.” He flopped on his back and flung his arm over his eyes.
Somehow Lavan kept his mouth from dropping open in shock. He had never heard the prince talk like this. He even looked sad. But…Lavan had been taken in before. The prince wasn’t stupid, just cruel.
“What do you mean, Highness?” he asked.
“I see it in their eyes. They only put up with me because of my title. Most would rather have nothing to do with me.” He sat up and held out his right hand to the companion, a gesture Lavan hadn’t seen in years.
Lavan left his chair and went to the prince to clasp his wrist with his own right hand. The bond tattoos touched and Lavan felt a slight resonance. The prince smiled though the feeling coming through the bond didn’t feel happy. Lavan struggled not to show any of his own feelings, grateful that the bond wasn’t sophisticated enough to allow thought.
“You are the only one I can trust, Lavan. We are bound, and I have no one else. My own father wants nothing to do with me, the child he didn’t want. My so-called friends only want to touch my power and wealth. But this,” he squeezed Lavan’s wrist. “I am glad to have you as my companion.”
For the first time ever, Lavan felt sorry for Hahn. Was this the true reason the prince was so awful? Did he feel abandoned and unloved? Had Lavan been so wrapped up in his own misery that he failed to see how unhappy the prince was? He was overcome with guilt and almost confessed hi
s own transgressions over the past few days, but experience had taught him to be wary. Was Hahn using the bond to manipulate him or was he truly unhappy?
Lavan stared into the prince’s face and tried to feel something positive through the bond. Something, anything, that might hint of good, buried deep inside the prince. Hahn’s face showed a perfect sad smile, but all Lavan could feel was anger and self-righteousness.
I will watch him. Give him a chance. Maybe if I was a better friend, he would feel less alone.
So Lavan quashed all emotion of doubt and tried to radiate support, though he wasn’t quite ready to abandon the search for Maya. He fell back on his usual safe defense.
“I will always be your companion, Your Highness.”
Chapter Twelve
“The Redirection Program worked great, as usual. Thanks.” Lenore planted a kiss on her husband’s head after a quick change to her favorite one-piece ship suit.
“I guess that’s your way of telling me you were followed, huh?” Diarmin looked up from his workbench, one of many in a cleared space of the cargo bay. He pulled off his magniglasses and smiled back. “Don’t forget, the miniature mechanics are mine, but the latest program is Allison’s.”
“The false signal worked great for a distraction, although Quinn failed to pull a photo of her.”
“Not my fault, Mom,” said Quinn as he collapsed into a huge stuffed chair across from his father’s workspace. It was worn and ugly but the most comfortable place in the entire ship. Quinn was fresh scrubbed from ditching his own disguise, and Lenore had to admit he had blended in with the locals extremely well.
“There was some sort of interference that scrambled the minicam. Probably recognize her if I saw her again though. Looked like she knew her way around those questionable streets. Most likely one of the local toughs looking to steal from unwary off-worlder prey.” He grabbed a handful of snacks from the bowl Diarmin kept next to his chair for those times when he was so focused on tinkering that he forgot to eat. “Didn’t seemed interested in the companion which would have made more sense.” He popped a few nuts into his mouth.
